


Mudblood of Slytherin Outtakes

by nickahontas



Series: The Mudblood of Slytherin [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29026038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nickahontas/pseuds/nickahontas
Summary: These are things that never made it into the main fic. These scenes are mostly unfinished, start in weird spots, or were reworked into a different scenes. I will not be finishing them. I just wanted to post them in case anyone is curious. I know I always wonder what was cut out of fics I read! :)
Series: The Mudblood of Slytherin [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129373
Comments: 6
Kudos: 72





	1. Chapter 1

Lucy had hoped she would have the locket by the time her seventh year began. It was not so. The City of London had better things to keep record of than orphanages that has long since been transformed into a hair and tanning salon. It didn’t help that she could only remember two things about it: It was possibly in the east end and definitely involved a Ms. Cole. Maybe.

After countless trips to London and three splinches across the coast of England, Lucy had it narrowed down to six establishments. Somehow, she was going to have to research them individually all the way from Hogwarts. She supposed Sirius could help, but it didn't seem like his forte despite his intelligence. If she was being honest with herself, she didn't trust him. He was too unpredictable to truly rely on. 

So, Lucy went back to Hogwarts. She spent her first day sharing curt nods with Severus Snape and pretending to gush over Violet Brown's new robes for her brother's wedding, a union that would one day result in Lavender Brown. It was tedious. Ridiculous, even, with all the things she had to do. She didn’t last two days before she began delving into the destruction of horcruxes. 

On the second day of school, Lucy began snuck up to the seventh floor and paced outside a tapestry depicting ballerina trolls. It was her favorite piece of artwork in the entire castle, even that statue of armor cursed to fling insults at everyone that passed. 

‘I need a place to master fiendfyre,’ she thought. ‘I need a place to master fiendfyre. I need a place to master fiendfyre.’

She stopped and turned on her heel. The wall was blank. No door had appeared. 

“Fuck,” she said. 

She began pacing once more, this time repeating a mantra about goblin weapons and basilisk venom. It too was unsuccessful. She tried every rendition of what she needed, but the wall remained unadorned. With a hearty, resounding “FUCK!”, she relented and asked for the Room of Hidden Things. She stepped in, stared at the endless maze of junk, and sat down to have a good cry. 

To think things had been going so well. 

Lucy’s months passed in a haze of hard work and long nights. Violet Brown, sweet, vain girl that she was, took it upon herself to intervene when Lucy’s tailored uniform began to hang like a loose skin. One moment, Lucy was staring into her soup, wondering what the fuck she was going to do, and the next Regulus Black was lowering himself beside her in one smooth movement. His heavy plate hardly made a noise when it touched the table. God, she hated purebloods. They were all so fucking graceful. His type might kill you slow, but they’d do it with poise.

She stared. The Slytherins stared. The professors stared. He didn’t seem to mind. He calmly cut into his venison and ladled gravy over his potatoes. 

“Hello, Regulus,” she said warily.

“Hello, Lucille. May I call you Lucy?”

“Yeah....er, can I help you with something?”

“Probably, but that’s not why I’m here. May I help you with something?”

She studied him closely. His eyes were deeper set, his lips less shapely, and his face a bit longer, but he still looked like Sirius. In fact, he almost could have been Andromeda’s brother rather than Sirius’s. Lucy kept that thought to herself. He probably wouldn’t be too enthused to hear about his blood traitor cousin. 

“Yes, actually,” she admitted, “but I doubt I’d want to pay the price.”

Regulus smirked. “Clever of you.”

“Cunning,” she disagreed.

His smirk widened into a smile. “If Lucius had half a brain, he would have cultivated you all those years ago. Only a fool would ostracize a Slytherin with a mind like yours.”

“He did more than ostracize me. He tried to fucking kill me.”

“That he did. And look at what you did. Would you have done it? Would you have killed him if the Baron had not intervened?”

“Our darling Narcissa would be better off for it.”

“Hmm. Maybe. Lucius is malleable. Others may not be so...soft.”

“What do you want, Regulus?”

“A great many things.”

“Why are you here? Sitting across from me?”

Regulus chewed thoughtfully. “Nothing in particular. I’m here as a favor.”

“A favor?”

“Yes. I want to court Violet Brown, you are on the verge of a mental breakdown, and she asked me to intervene. It was a simple enough request.“

“Oh fucking hell,” Lucy groused, covering her face with her hands. “That’s all I need.”

“Pardon?”

“I have a thousand other things to worry about. I can’t deal with worrying if Violet is going to get herself killed with her Death Eater husband.”

Regulus, to his credit, did not bother to deny the accusation. 

“I need not reassure you of how a Black bride would be protected. You have become quite familiar with my family, have you not?”

Lucy rested her chin on her fist as she scrutinized him. 

“Does that bother you?” She asked curiously. 

“You already know the answer to that. And no elbows on the dinner table, sweet sister.”

She frowned at both the reprimand and the epithet as she dropped her hands to her lap. 

“Aren’t we cousins?”

“I was not referring to Andromeda.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Regulus echoed sardonically. 

“Sirius and I are just friends. And I don’t have time for that nonsense right now anyway.”

Regulus’s sharp eyes darted across her face, searching for a hint of deception. He frowned when he found none.

“I thought you were smarter than that. But I digress. I’m here to convince you to take care of yourself. You haven’t take one bite of your food since I sat down.”

Almost mechanically, she began shoveling soup into her spoon and raising it to her mouth. She didn’t taste it. She hardly felt it scorch her throat as she swallowed. This was an upsetting revelation. Sure, she no longer avoided the Marauders, but she didn’t see them regularly. Sure, she spent half of her summer with Sirius, but there wasn’t anything romantic about it. In fact, he had flirted with those muggle girls at the pool nearly every day. 

Regulus was simply mistaken. A fact that she could twist to her advantage. If people thought she and Sirius were slipping off for a quick shag, it would be much easier to bring him in on her plans. If she ever made one. As brash and annoying as Sirius was, she had reached a dead end. It might be time for a fresh perspective.

“Regulus,” she ventured carefully. “May I ask you a hypothetical question?”

“Of course.”

Fucking purebloods. So polite. So elegant. No elbows on the table, but genocide is absolutely encouraged. 

“If you needed information about muggle London, how would go about getting it?”

He furrowed his manicured brows. 

“I would probably ask Severus.”

“No, I mean something specific. Too specific for even magic to find.”

“Then I would definitely ask Severus.”

“And if it was a secret? Something you didn’t trust Severus with?”

“Then I’d hire a muggle to do it for me.”

“You’d....” Lucy trailed off, her jaw dropping. “You’d just hire someone?!” 

“Why ever not?”

“You rich Tory bastard,” she whispered in awe. 

“I beg your pardon?”

Lucy waved her hand flippantly. “Muggle politics, doesn’t matter. I can’t decide if you-“

“No, explain this,” he ordered with the air of a spoiled child. “Of course it matters. Politics are the only thing that matters.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Tory is a colloquial term for the Conservative party in Muggle Britain. Do you know about the bourgeoisie and the proletariat?”

Regulus scoffed in disdain. “Of course I do. I’m not uncultured.”

His genuine offense at being uncultured startled Lucy into laughing. There were times when she missed being around Slytherins. No one could understand a Slytherin like a Slytherin. Ted and Sirius could care less about culture and politics or what they could gain from understanding them. Manipulating them. It was liberating to be around people like Regulus and Violet, people who would never look down on Lucy for her ruthless ambitions. 

Not for the first time, Lucy wondered what it would be like to be around someone like Tom Marvolo Riddle. 


	2. Chapter 2

Lucy even manages to wrangle a hot shower out of the ordeal. It’s slow going and nauseating, but it works better than any magic could. Violet Brown is propped up on the bed when they return, her stiletto ankle boots tangled together on the floor. Lucy is once again struck with the slightest surge of envy. Violet has always been regally beautiful in a distinctly aristocratic way. She’s more attractive than sexy and men have always treated her differently because of it.

  
"Lucy!" she cries. "You're looking much better." 

"I feel much better,” Lucy says cautiously. She hadn’t realized Violet considered her a ‘visit you in the hospital wing’ friend. “Thanks for stopping by.”  


"Someone had to counter all of Sev's academic journals," She says, waving her hand at the bedside table.

  
Books, fashion magazines, and the latest academic journals are surrounded by a pile of snacks and a small bouquet of flowers. The books range from an old potions text to a parody romance called 'Lying with a Levifold'. She hopes its a parody anyway. A comb and hair ties and pins have been arranged on the nearest corner. None of them are Lucy’s.

"Sit down and I'll do something with your hair," Violet says.

Madam Pomfrey helps lower Lucy onto the bed before leaving with a strict warning about overexertion and noise levels. Violet flicks the curtain closed as soon as she's gone. Lucy twists in alarm, but the other girl turns her around with a surprisingly strong grip.

"We don't have time," she explains, already casting a drying charm. It always takes three spells for it to dry completely, but its still much more efficient than any blowdryer. "There was an owl from my brother this morning. Aurors are coming to question you at half nine. I don't know what you're caught up in, but I won't let you face them looking like a hag."

"Wow. Cheers, Violet,” she deadpans.

Violet brushes through a tangle with a bit more force than necessary. "You're not allowed to sass me. I know we're not the closest of friends, but you're the best one I've got. You and Regulus are the only people I know that would come after me if I was in trouble and he would only do it if he was bored or gained something from it. I've been worried sick about you. And speaking of that smug prat, I haven't had the time to inform him about all this, but I caught Severus on his way to potions. He'll get Slughorn or someone, I'm sure. Your brother or his wife usually don't get here until eleven, a fact the Ministry is probably well aware of."

Lucy peers around to interrogate her, but she scowls and turns Lucy's head back around forcefully. Violet’s deft fingers divide her hair into sections and begin an intricate braid that tugs hard at Lucy's scalp.

"You're so lucky to have straight hair. It would've taken ten minutes just to separate the sections on mine. How well versed are you in Ministry politics?"

"Enough to know it's election season in the middle of a civil war.”

"That'll have to do then." Violet stands, hovering close to scrutinize Lucy's face. Eventually, she lets out a soft sigh and arranges Lucy's braid over her shoulder. "Best not do your makeup. You might be able to garner a little sympathy looking like that."

"I can't try to flirt my way out of this one."

"No," Violet agrees, gathering her shoes off the floor. "Nor out of accompanying me to the Longbottom's Yule party."

"What."

Violet glances up from tugging on her boots. "My brother is forcing me to go and I refuse to deal with a hundred Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs on my own."

"What?! Why not Shafiq or Harrington? No offense, Violet, but I didn’t realize we had this sort of friendship.”

She shoulders her bag and scrunches her face up.

“Their families would skin them alive, and quite frankly, I don’t plan on keeping up with them after graduation.”

“But you plan on keeping up with me?”

Violet gives her a look. “You don't plan on marrying a stuffy pureblood that commits genocide at night, do you?"

"No. I much prefer my men to murder innocents during the day."  
  
"Please do not speak those words around Regulus," a baritone voice intones. The curtain draws back to reveal Severus Snape glaring at them over his wicked nose. "We have a hard enough time curbing his base desires."   
  
"Now that Severus is here, I’m off to-“

“Wait! Maybe it’s all the potions, but I don’t understand.“

“You looked dead,” she says flatly. “It was like looking at your corpse. It put some things into perspective.” She fluffs her curls one final time. “I’m late to Divination. I’ll drop in after dinner if you’re awake.”


	3. Chapter 3

"WHAT?! Surely not Orion!" Fleamont exclaims.

"Yes, sir. Orion and Regulus Black be calling."

Lucy looks down at herself. She doesn't look like an inferi this time, but she's in Sirius's fading Black Sabbath t-shirt and sweatpants that cover her entire foot. Orion Black certainly won’t allow her into his library looking like a muggle bum.

The house elf twists his ears in his hands. “Is Padfoot being in trouble, Sir Effie?”

“No, Pokey, I don’t think they’re here for Sirius,” Mrs. Potter says with a tight smile. “Best not keep them waiting. Send them through.”

Orion Black is the first to step through the fireplace. He looks nearly identical to Sirius except for the haunting loveliness his face holds in its sharp lines. Sirius, though admittedly gorgeous, has more of a ruggedness about him. Silver liberally streaks Black’s curls and dark stubble frames his full, bowtie lips. His gray eyes, however, hold the same hard glint as Narcissa. Lucy quickly jerks her gaze away when they land on her own.

Mrs. Potter rolls her eyes to the heavens. “Strange that you refer to him as your son.”

“Do not test me today, Euphemia,” Black says calmly.

Both of the Potters freeze, Euphemia’s knuckles going white around her fork and Fleamont nearly falling into his chair. James’s hand surreptitiously drifts to his wand lying beside his overflowing plate. For a fleeting moment, Lucy thinks they’re being quite dramatic. Then she remembers Gawain Yaxley’s breath hot in her ear as he whispered, ‘Embarrass this family tonight and I’ll kill you myself’. These are not the sort of men who can afford idle threats. Nor is Lucy for that matter; she played her own part in Gawain’s untimely death

Orion Black, who has taken advantage of his son’s dramatic monologue to take a seat, hums in agreement.

”Andromeda was the more cunning of her sisters,” he muses, taking a long sip of his tea. “Excellent darjeeling, Fleamont. Do you still keep in touch with your your grandmother’s kin?”

“Yes, we floo to Mumbai every year.”

Lucy very nearly gasps. She hasn’t had the time to study other magical cultures as much as she would have liked, but she at least knows that snakes are associated with many Hindu gods and were prevalent in a photo of the Indian Ministry she once saw in a book.

“Your grandmother was Indian?” She asks.

“Yes. She was the one who introduced me to potions. Lovely woman.”

“Are there many parselmouths in her line?”

Regulus chokes on his juice. He looks from Lucy to James and back with mirth in his eyes. They widen as he comes to some conclusion.

“Why the bloody hell didn’t he use that against the basilisk?!” He demands.

“Language, Regulus,” Black cuts in.

Lucy rolls her eyes. “Because it’s a basilisk. You really think the King of Serpents would listen to a twelve year old over-...”

Regulus must have taken it to his father, who recognized its true nature. From there, it would have been easy to put together all of her adventures with Sirius. Why they would want to talk with him about it, she doesn’t know, but she hardly cares.

“Furthermore,” she hisses, “you’ll find that me and my ruined soul and dark arts have done more to ward off Tom Riddle than anyone else has thus far. Including your illustrious headmaster, who, by the way, possesses a soul so ruined by the dark arts that he needs a fucking phoenix to curb his ambitions.

“Just because you’re all too weak to resist the call doesn’t mean that we all are. My dearest friend is capable of killing you in one breath and casting a patronus in the next. It’s all about control, something you bleeding heart fucking Gryffindors sorely lack.“

Silence reigns for all of two heartbeats before James Potter boasts, “My girlfriend is an exception to that rule.”

His distraction works. Lucy huffs. Her legs give out- she hadn’t even realized that she was standing- and she slumps down into her chair.

“As is Mad-Eye Moody, I’d reckon,” she grudges.

Orion Black's boots click on the stone floor as he crosses the room. Lucy holds herself very still as he crouches to place his hand under chin, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. Soft tendrils probe at her mind and as tired as she is, as much as she'd like to just let him parade through, she recognizes the test for what it is. She brushes against the intruding presence almost affectionately. When they reach further in response, she clamps down on them and pulls. Down and down and down they go until she feels him collide with a dusty floor.

Andromeda began teaching Lucy Occlumency before Hogwarts. She taught her how to erect shields and fight back against invaders. Forcing an unskilled witch or wizard out is simple enough. Lying will suffice for those of slightly more talent. There isn't much protection against the likes of Severus, Dumbledore, or Voldemort, so the most one can do is to try to manipulate them and pray to god it works. Life is not so simple, however, and people are even more complex. In the realm of mind arts, there are those more dangerous than the likes of James Potter and weaker than Severus Snape and Tom Riddle. For those threats, a more intricate response is required: a prison.

Lucy constructed hers to resemble the Room of Requirement. More competent occlumens have mindscapes that aren't limited to such mundane concepts as rooms, but she's nonetheless proud of her creation. It is a labyrinth of rubbish and treasure, tempting the wanderer with memories linked to the sapphire tiaras and worn books that they encounter within. She can feel Orion Black wandering through her mind curiously as though he's taking an afternoon stroll in a new park. After only a minute, he pulls himself back and tilts his head to the side.

"You're smaller than I thought you would be," he says.

"I can't say I ever thought about you," she sniffs, removing herself from his grip. It is a mistake. He towers over her when he stands.

"Lie."

  
She waves off his accusation with as much haughtiness as she can muster in her bedraggled state. "Well, I've only ever given serious thought to you in correlation with that library of yours."

"Hm. Almost a truth."

Lucy furrows her brows. That is the truth. She doesn't have the energy or need to lie to him about this. She impressed the Dark Lord; there isn't anyone else left to prove herself too. Dumbledore can go fall off the astronomy tower for all she cares.

"Sirius may have mentioned that our father is an expert in warding," Regulus offers, strolling over to stand beside him. She hardens herself against the intensity of their double scrutinization. "That may be the answer to your puzzle."

"How can you tell?" Potter asks curiously.

“Signet ring,” Lucy answers.


	4. Chapter 4

Lucy's living room echoes with a crack at precisely five 'til one on Boxing Day. Regulus appears looking particularly lethal in tailored black robes and a fur lined cloak. He glances around, smiling almost sheepishly when he spies Lucy reading in a plush bean bag chair.

"I don't mean to be rude," he apologizes, "but this is the only place I could apparate. I didn't get the chance to step outside the other night."

Lucy huffs. "What a polite way to put it."

He rakes his eyes over her pale pink robes as she crosses the room. She stops when he's just in reach, curious and a little nervous about how he's going to greet her. A smile breaks out across her face when he bends to down to kiss her cheek. Smoke mingles with the scent of his cologne.

"Have you been playing with fire?" she asks curiously, only half joking.  
  
He grimaces. "I had a difficult conversation with my mother this morning. It was best that I let out a bit of energy and it's too cold to go flying."

'I could think of a better way to let out some energy,' she wants to say, but it's probably better not to get him riled up just now. Regulus gives her a knowing, almost exasperated look, as if he knew exactly what foolishness her brain supplied.

"I take it you broke the news to her," she says instead.

“Drusilla Rosier did before I could. It was an unmitigated disaster. I had to disarm her and after that it took an hour to get her to stop screeching at me."

Lucy cringes. She hasn't given much thought to Walburga Black. It seems like she'll have to consult with Sirius soon, not that she expects him to have any legitimate advice.

"When will you introduce us?"

"Not for a while yet. She's just now went from denial to anger. I’d like her to get thorough at least two more stages of grief before you’re thrown to the wolves.”

“Please. If I can handle Dumbledore and the Dark Lord-“

“Neither of whom have provoked you to the point of madness.”

"Lucius Malfoy has.”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “As much pleasure as I would derive from analyzing your relationship with Lucius Malfoy, I’m afraid we don’t have time for it just now. Gringotts awaits us. And as such, I have a small request to make.”

“What is it?” She asks warily.

“Though you look adorable today,” he says, reaching over to cup her cheek. “I need you to look dangerous. Would mind terribly if you charmed your clothes?”

“Yeah, you can charm them right off”, she says with a cheeky grin.

Regulus sighs. He raises his wand a a jet of light changes her pink robes and gold dress to stark shades of charcoal and red.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Lucille Tonks,” he says.


End file.
